


At Her Side

by angelicaschuyler



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 00:44:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5185712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelicaschuyler/pseuds/angelicaschuyler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angelica navigates her maid-of-honor duties.<br/><strong>Written for <a href="http://hamiltonprompts.tumblr.com/post/132838536008/modern-au-angelica-helping-eliza-plan-the">this prompt</a> at <a href="http://hamiltonprompts.tumblr.com/">Hamilton Prompts</a>. </strong><br/>"Modern AU, Angelica helping Eliza plan the wedding."</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Her Side

**Author's Note:**

> **Written for[this prompt](http://hamiltonprompts.tumblr.com/post/132838536008/modern-au-angelica-helping-eliza-plan-the) at [Hamilton Prompts](http://hamiltonprompts.tumblr.com/). **

**Eight months**

The engagement party is held in the White House’s East Room. Angelica originally planned to host it at her own home - until the President and First Lady insisted, deciding it would be their engagement present for the couple. It’s a generous offer that terrifies Eliza and makes Angelica wonder what the hell their wedding gift will be. 

The change in venue gives Angelica a chance to enjoy the party while Martha Washington takes care of all the pleasantries, at least. She’s three glasses of champagne deep when she realizes her sister is nowhere to be found. Her eyes sweep the room, and there's Alex - standing around a tall table with his groomsmen, looking incredibly stiff and uncomfortable.

“Hey, where’s your fiancée?” Angelica asks, shouldering her way into a spot between Lafayette and Hercules. She frowns at the plate of veggies and hummus the group is sharing. There isn't a beer or glass of wine in sight. “What the hell is going on?”

“This is horrible,” Alex whispers, glancing over his shoulder and leaning forward. Angelica leans in to meet him. “There’s a _string quartet_. And Secret Service everywhere. Eliza is probably dead. Of boredom.”

Angelica looks around at the other men. John is staring at the floor and shredding a napkin.

“Alex, if you didn’t want President Washington to host this, you should’ve told me. I could’ve talked him out of it – fed him some bullshit about how important it was for me to throw the biggest party of my sister’s life, blah blah blah."

“He was so excited,” Alex says forlornly. “I didn’t want to hurt his feelings! But he seriously does not know how to throw a party.”

Angelica looks around the room. The champagne must be hitting her a bit harder than she realized, because Alex is right. No one over the age of 35 is dancing. All of Eliza’s Columbia University friends are gathered in a corner, gossiping.

“I suggested we get drunk,” Hercules says, pointing at Angelica’s champagne flute. She has to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes. “But drinking in front of Washington makes him nervous.”

Alex’s nostrils flare. “That’s not even – OK, I said getting drunk at a party your boss is throwing for you, _in his home_ , is probably not the best idea.”

Angelica whips out her phone and shoots off a text to Eliza.

_ANGELICA: Where are you? Alex and his friends are eating carrots and hummus and the dance floor is empty. Please liven this place up._

A few minutes pass. Angelica half-listens to Alex and John argue about when it's ethical to fake an illness. Her phone dings.

_ELIZA: You’re way better at that._

It’s completely unlike Eliza, so soft-spoken and sweet-natured, to be this dramatic.

 _ANGELICA:_ _Eliza, where are you?!?!_

_ELIZA: Bathroom._

* * *

 

Angelica finds her sister sitting on top of the toilet lid, head in her hands, the hem of her beautiful blue dress draped over the rim of the waste basket.

“Nope,” Angelica says, closing the door behind her and gathering up her own dress so she can kneel in front of Eliza. She pulls Eliza's hands away from her face and holds them, squeezing. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

Eliza flicks a strand of hair out of her eyes and chokes out a laugh. Her eyes are swimming.

“I was trying to make the best of this,” she says. “I get that this is a strange party for a bunch of 20-somethings, but none of my friends are having fun. And then Alex was uncomfortable. I just couldn’t be in the room much longer.”

Angelica pulls the hem of her sister’s dress out of the waste basket and dusts it off. “Your friends are acting like spoiled brats. They’re at a party. Hosted by their President. Who has professional party planners, and it’s really starting to look like he doesn't use them.”

Eliza laughs. Angelica grabs a tissue from the vanity and dabs a mascara smudge off her cheek.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to go back out there and charm everyone. Dance with your fiancé. Have a blast. Ignore your snobby friends.”

“OK…” Eliza says, sniffling. “And then?”

Angelica pops open her clutch and pulls out her credit card, grinning. “And then you’re going to get out of here and take Alex somewhere with a DJ.”

Eliza’s eyes widen and it’s Angelica’s turn to laugh. She pecks her sister’s cheek. “Congratulations, Eliza.”

 

**Three months**

“Why is John here again?”

“He’s the best man, Angelica. You’re here.”

“Yes, but the difference is you’re here, too. Where the hell is Alex?”

Eliza blinks slowly, her smile strained. “Alex was pulled into a morning meeting. I’m sure John is perfectly capable of helping us pick the cake.”

Angelica doesn’t dislike John Laurens. Actually, she loves the idea of him stepping up to the plate and doing his share of the wedding planning. But standing in for Alex – that wasn’t part of the plan.

“It’s just a cake,” Eliza says. They’re huddled in the back of the bakery as John paces the main floor, peeking in the plastic sample cups. She puts her hands on Angelica’s shoulders. Her sister’s engagement ring sparkles in her peripheral vision. “It’s one piece of the puzzle. What did we decide earlier – if I’m not stressing, you’re not stressing. Remember?”

“Right,” Angelica says, voice clipped as her sister grabs her hand and drags her out from the corner. Eliza is all smiles as the consultant walks her through the various flavors.

“So, what was important enough to drag Alex away from his own wedding planning?” Angelica hisses to John while her sister discusses the pros and cons of a German chocolate cake. 

“Um, the Greek debt crisis?” John says, eyes narrowing.

“Hm.”

“Hey, take it up with the President,” John says as he’s handed a tiny cup of red velvet cake. He shovels it out with the tiny sampling spoon. “It wasn’t exactly non-mandatory.”

Angelica closes her eyes. _If I’m not stressing, you’re not stressing._ Something that’s fairly hard to do when Alex and his friends are involved.

 

**Night Before**

_ANGELICA: Alex, are your vows written?_

_ALEX: This is John. Wait, they’re writing their own vows?_

_ANGELICA: Hysterical. Why do you have Alex’s phone?_

_ALEX: I’m handling all his communication with the outside world until the wedding is over with. Helping him de-stress._

_ANGELICA: Is he writing his vows? Right now?_

_ALEX: He is._

Angelica groans and throws her phone onto the hotel’s nightstand.

“Did you know your husband-to-be is writing his vows the night before your wedding?” she calls out to Eliza. The bathroom door creaks open and Eliza emerges, hair wrapped in a towel that matches a luxurious white robe. Her face is slathered with a mud mask.

“Mmm,” she says, sinking into a leather chair and stretching her arms over her head. “Tell me more about this. It’s very relaxing.”

Angelica wants to say more, but she thinks better of it. This is Eliza’s last night as an unmarried woman.

“We should probably do our nails soon,” Eliza says, closing her eyes and sinking further into the armchair. “You gave the bridesmaids instructions, right?”

“French tip manicures, pearl white pedicures. I still can’t believe you didn’t hire any professionals for this.”

Eliza shrugs one shoulder sleepily. “We wanted to keep within a modest budget. And besides, I trust you with my hair and makeup. Well, I do now. I’m hoping your skills have improved since my eighth birthday makeover.”

She laughs at the memory of her 8-year-old sister with bright pink lips and a near-purple blush. “This time we have a palette that suits your skin tone.”

Eliza snorts and begins unwrapping her hair. Angelica’s phone vibrates on the nightstand and she scoops it up, bracing herself before unlocking the screen.

_JOHN: Back on my phone. Bar crawl while the bride and groom sleep?_

_ANGELICA: No._

_JOHN: Worth a shot._

_ANGELICA: Weddings are typically followed by a party, and that is where I will be getting my drink on. I don’t plan on being hungover while helping my sister into her dress tomorrow. Considering Alex requires a lot more supervision, I think you should do the same._

_JOHN: Duly noted. I’m asking Peggy._

_ANGELICA: Good night._

She looks up to find Eliza watching her with a bemused smile. “Anything I should know about?”

Angelica powers off her phone.

“Nope. Just keep that expensive gown away from the groomsmen, OK?”

 

 


End file.
